Two Authors in a Bookstore
by MurphysScribe
Summary: Bones/NCIS X-over. 2 authors who absolutely don't write true crime, meet at a book signing. McGee Gemcity and Temperance Brennan friendship. NEED co-author from either fandom to help with mystery plot! You want more, send help!
1. Chapter 1

The Bookstore.

NCIS/Bones X-over drabble. Brennan and McGee, whoops, sorry Gemcity, friendship

NCIS belongs to CBS. Bones belongs to Fox. Plotbunnies are mine, though.

Rating; G

Summary: Two authors, who absolutely do not write true crime, at a book signing.

Author's Note: This drabble feels like it wants to be part of a larger x-over casefic, which I don't have the time or the talent to write. Any good mystery plotters from either fandom wanna team up? Message me!

Murph

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"True Crime Spectacular Book Signing!" the giant banner proclaimed, nearly dwarfing the two tables beneath it.

"But I write fiction!" McGee muttered. He began helping the bookstore staff unload stacks of the latest L.J. Tibbs novel from their boxes. He had heard there was going to be another mystery author signing with him, but his agent hadn't told him who. He looked over at her stacks of books. Temperance Brennan. "Cool!" He was definitely a fan of her writing. She clearly did research to make her forensic science and crime scene investigation look real. He arranged a handful of sharpies in a neat row.

A few moments later, an auburn-haired woman hurried in. She scowled at the banner. "I write fiction!" she protested, to nobody in particular.

"You must be Temperance Brennan," McGee offered a hand he hoped wasn't clammy. _Don't babble_ he told himself. _Be Gemcity cool._

"Call me Tempe. You're Mr. Gemcity?"

"Call me, uh, Thom." This was really too weird. "I'm actually a huge fan of yours!" He smiled.

She smiled. "Thank you, Thom. I haven't read yours yet. I don't actually read novels. My partner and some of my colleagues do, though."

Although he was disappointed, McGee tried to shrug it off. "Here, let me give you one to take to work." He whipped out a pen and signed his name with a flourish.

"Thank you. My partner will enjoy it."

Long lines of fans were beginning to form. McGee settled down to the rhythm of chatting with fans and trying not to let the fame, or the highlighter fumes, go to his head.

Beside him, and faced with a line he was disappointed to note was much longer, Brennan did the same.

McGee's cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Got a case, McGee!" came Gibbs' growl. McGee stared at his phone, and the line of fans. Rotten timing. He sighed, stood, and began apologizing as he packed up.

He heard a phone ring next to him. "You found a skeleton? I'll be right there."


	2. Chapter 2

When McGee got to the crime scene, he found his boss _not_ in a jurisdictional pissing contest with the FBI. "McGee- this is Agent Seeley Booth. We're sharing the investigation." And if that wasn't weird enough, the author, Tempe Brennan, arrived about fifteen minutes later, zipping up a dark blue jumpsuit.

"Special Agent Gibbs, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan, my partner, and head of a team of squi...err, forensic experts at the Jeffersonian. We'll be processing the crime scene and-"

Gibbs cut him off. "My ME and forensics team will be processing the crime scene. We've got a dead Marine, we've got lead on this."

The man called Booth shrugged. "You're the boss, Gibbs."

Knowing what kind of money the Jeffersonian could command, and picturing Abby's glee at the state of the art shiny lab they'd only seen in pictures, McGee was pretty sure they'd be using the Jeffersonian lab anyway.

"McGee, glad you could join us. Nice--- outfit." Gibbs said, with a raised eyebrow at the tweed blazer. He tossed McGee one of Ducky's coveralls. "Body's in the ravine. I want you tagging and bagging." McGee slithered into the coverall, already starting to itch from imagined poison ivy. He hated woodsy crime scenes. There was a badly decomposing body in a Marines uniform, next to fragments of what had to be a human skeleton, wrapped in decaying fabric.

"Caucasian male, between twenty-five and thirty when he died," said Tempe Brennan, not looking up from the skull as McGee approached. "Oh! You're not Booth. You're from the bookstore!"

"I, um, work for NCIS. And what I write is fiction. Which has nothing to do with investigations," he added, with a swiftness borne of his team's longstanding teasing.

"Are you in the military yourself?"

"Actually no, I do tech for them, I- hang on, could you stand back so I can get a shot of your bones, um, the skeleton?"

"Interesting for a civilian to align himself with such a militaristic organization," Tempe mused as she scooted out of the way. "Historically," and she got a faraway look identical to the one that preceded one of Ducky's tangents.

McGee couldn't wait to get the NCIS team over to the Jeffersonian, working on solving the crime.


End file.
